GEORGIAN SATIRISTS 143
And ruling empires with a single nod; 150
Who would not think, to hear him law dispense,
That he had Int'rest, and that they had sense?
Injurious thought! beneath NIGHT'S honest shade,
When pomp is buried and false colours fade,
Plainly we see at that impartial hour 155
Them dupes to pride, and him the tool of pow'r.
GOB help the man, condemned by cruel fate
To court the seeming, or the real great.
Much sorrow shall he feel, and suffer more
Than any slave who labours at the oar. 160
By slavish methods must he learn to please,
By smooth tongu'd Flatt'ry, that curst court-disease,
Supple to ev'ry wayward mood strike sail,
And shift with shifting humour's peevish gale,
To Nature dead he must adopt vile art, 165
And wear a smile, with anguish in his heart.
A sense of honour would destroy his schemes,
And Conscience ne'er must speak unless in dreams.
When he hath tamely borne for many years
Cold looks, forbidding frowns, contemptuous sneers,
When he at last expects, good easy man, 171
To reap the profits of his labour'd plan,
Some cringing LACQUEY, or rapacious WHORE,
To favours of the great the surest door,
Some CATAMITE, or PIMP, in credit grown, 175
Who tempts another's wife, or sells his own,
Steps cross his hopes, the promised boon denies,
And for some MINION'S MINION claims the prize.
Foe to restraint, unpractis'd in deceit.
Too resolute, from Nature's active heat, 180